You Won't See Me
by RingaStarr
Summary: Woody does something drastic, But can he turn to anyone for help?
1. No Turning Back

You Won't See Me  
  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own, "Cheers" or any of the characters.  
  
  
Woody Boyd stood atop the roof of his Chinatown apartment, tears streaming down his cheeks. He swore to himself that he would do it. Why didn't he? He urged his legs to move. They didn't budge. He kicked himself in his mind, which only made him shut his eyes silently and climb down. He couldn't bring himself to do something that he desperately wanted, and part of him felt that he needed, to do.  
  
He fell to the floor of his room and sobbed. "Why?..." He thought. Why couldn't he fulfill that wish? Was he really that useless? He let those thoughts run over and over in his mind until he dozed off.  
  
Sam was getting worried. Woody wasn't at work yet, and he was usually the first one there after him.  
  
"Hey, has anyone seen Woody?" He asked.  
  
Norm shook his head. "Nope."  
  
"Call his apartment." Cliff offered. "See if he's home."  
  
Sam thought that was a good idea and dialed Woody's number. He got his machine.  
  
"Hi, you've reached Woody Boyd. I'm not in right now, please leave a message. Thanks."  
  
"Woody? It's Sam. Where are you? I'm at the bar, please call me if you're not going to come in today."  
  
Woody heard the message as he curled into a little ball in the corner of the room. "That's all they like me for, work....seems that's all I'm good for, doing work." He mumbled.  
  
He knew that they all thought he was dumb, but didn't they know that he couldn't help it?  
  
Maybe he could help it, but just didn't know how. That made him feel even more insecure.  
  
He felt claustrophobic. He needed to get out of that room. He got up, and didn't care how he looked as long as he was dressed, and walked out the door.   
  
"Did you get a hold of Woody?" Rebecca asked.   
  
Sam shook his head. "No, he wasn't home. I left a message."  
  
"Good, he must be on his way then."  
  
Carla paused her work and walked by the bar. "Hey, did any of you notice that Woody hardly said anything yesterday?"  
  
Norm nodded. "Hey, yeah. Woody usually always has something to say."  
  
"And that he felt a little down about things?" Carla added.  
  
"You know, you're right..." Cliff mused. "I had a friend who was depressed once. Didn't speak, didn't eat, didn't sleep. He got out of it, though."  
  
"How did he do that?" Rebecca asked.  
  
"You know, I never heard from him again after college. I guess he must've snapped out of it." Cliff told her.   
  
"Cliff, he might have killed himself." Sam replied. He paused.  
  
"You don't think..." He started.  
  
They all shook their heads. "No, not our Woody. He gets down, but he's not suicidal."  
  
Were they sure?  
  
Woody walked into a building. He met a man as he walked along the road, and he asked what was wrong. Woody told him, and the man said he worked on a talk show where they could express their feelings. Woody took him up. They started air in an hour.  
  
"I don't care what I say..." Woody said to himself. "They won't see me anyway. Why should I care?"  
  
"Mr. Boyd." A man said to him. "Show time."  
  
Woody got up and walked to the set. He sat down in a chair, and he found that it was the only other chair in the room, besides the host's chair. It didn't really matter to him, though.  
  
Finally, the show started.  
  
"Hello, and welcome to Lives and Losses. I'm your host, Rick Johnson, and here we have a boy with us who has a hurting heart."  
  
The gang at Cheers was watching some football. They were cheering, "Go! Go! Go!"  
  
Norm's shoulder bumped the remote. "Norm! They were gonna score!"  
  
"I didn't do it on purpose!" Norm protested.  
  
Sam pointed. "Hey, isn't that Woody?"  
  
They all looked up. "Hey, that is him!"  
  
"Young man, would you tell us your name please?"  
  
"Woody Boyd."  
  
"Where do you work, Woody?"  
  
"I work as a bartender in a bar called "Cheers." He told him.  
  
"Why did you choose to come on the show, Woody?"  
  
Woody sighed. "Because I felt I needed to talk."  
  
"But Woody can tell us anything, he didn't need to go on some show." Fraiser muttered. They all nodded, not taking their eyes off the screen.  
  
"What did you want to talk about, Woody?" The host asked him.  
  
Woody shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "I tried to commit suicide last night." 


	2. Calming Darkness

You Won't See Me Chapter 2  
  
  
  
They all gasped in shock. Woody? Their Woody? Commit suicide? Never.   
  
"Why did you feel you needed to do that, Woody?" The host asked.  
  
"Well..." Woody began. "I felt left out. It seems that everyone at Cheers just thinks of me as an idiot. The only reason my boss Sam hired me is because I was a friend of a late bartender there and I was a hard worker." Woody sighed. "I didn't tell them because I didn't think they'd take me seriously. So I just worked all day, went home, got drunk, got jealous, tried to jump off my roof. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm not even smart enough to know how to kill myself."  
  
Woody let his head rest in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up.  
  
"See?" The host said. "This young man is someone who feels unwanted. Well Woody, this is a show that welcomes young dim-witted workers as one of us."  
  
Woody looked shocked. "Oh, so you think of me as a freak too, huh?"  
  
The host raised his hands in surprise, caught off-guard by Woody's reaction.  
  
Woody stood up angrily. "Well, you can take this show and shove it." He said, picking up an empty glass and hurling it across the room where it landed with a crash. He then stormed off the set.  
  
They snapped off the TV. "God..." Fraiser muttered. "I guess that we did sort of misunderstand Woody."  
  
"Yeah," Sam sighed. "I feel awful. I'm gonna go and talk to him."  
  
Sam stopped halfway as Woody burst through the door. He immediately began his work, and tried to hide a tear that began to fall. Sam stopped him.  
  
"Woody, we saw you on that talk show."  
  
Woody paused, looked up, and then took a shot of some whiskey that was laying out.  
  
Sam turned Woody towards him. "Woody, how could you think of doing such a thing?"  
  
Woody wrestled himself away from Sam. "So now you're wondering why I'm thinking? Do I not have a right to think?"  
  
"No, no, Woody!" Fraiser protested. "It's not like that!"  
  
Woody started to cry, and banged his fist into a tray of glasses, his wrist getting cut open.   
  
He then fainted cold onto the floor. 


End file.
